The Heart Has Two Sides
by Lady Cailan
Summary: A story about Draco and Ginny as two people on opposing sides in a world heading towards division and war once more.
1. The Morning after the Dream

Draco was enveloped in sleep as he rolled over in his bed roughly, a sigh escaping his pale lips. He was not mindful of the cool satin against his burning cheeks, or of the increasing panic that seemed to be filling him as he dreamed. Nor was he aware of the slight whimper that then escaped his mouth. Of course, had he been awake, any sign that conveyed fear or uncertainty would not have been allowed- not even one as miniscule as a whimper.

He rolled over again, his thin legs getting tangled up in the comforter that was slowly slipping down his body.

As it was, Draco Malfoy was not aware of his surroundings; it was the dream itself that held his mind. The dream that he knew…that he was so close to understanding, to grasping fully. Something about pain…excruciating pain that made him want to cry out in hopes of it stopping. Pain that surrounded him, wanting to take him apart limb by limb, and yet when he tried to run to move or to get away, he found he could not. Pain in its purest, most unadulterated form.

Pain.

And then, in the midst of this pain he would see the face of his own father. Cruel, heartless and cold. As he always looked. And the pain would ebb and fall back, but it was still there, still making him cry out, silent cries that only dreams would allow him…

Draco opened his gray eyes and a huge gush of air escaped his lungs and came out of him in a sigh of relief. It was over.

He glanced around, his thin fingers clasping the comforter around his body. Snow was falling outside his dormitory room, and he could hear the loud snores of his friends in the beds on either side of him. Usually this annoyed him, however this early morning, the usually obnoxious snores soothed his frenzied mind.

Normalcy. It was exactly what he craved. The feeling that what he had just experienced was merely a dream, and nothing more. Now that Draco was awake, the horrible chains of the nightmare wouldn't bind him any longer.

He shifted in his bed slightly and took a deep breath and let it out quickly. Draco's heart had slowed to a normal beat by this time and he let his mind wonder over the few details that he could still remember from the fading wisps of his dreams.

Pain.

He remembered that; Draco could swear he could feel it even then, wide awake on that snowy day. And his father. The dark eyes, watching him with disapproval. The sharp nose and prominent chin. The scowl that almost always resided on his father's lips. The long thin hair that was pulled severely away from his thin pale face.

Those details would not leave him, as Draco had known and feared his father his whole life.

The look in those dark eyes….

Draco sat up and pushed his blankets aside, allowing his long legs to leave the comforts of the bed and touch the cool wood floor.

He shuddered. Perhaps from the iciness of the floor. Or perhaps from the inability to grasp what he had seen in his father's eyes.

He moved slowly from his bed to his drawers, glancing briefly to the window. Still snowing. He slipped on a satin robe and moved towards the door. Someone shifted in his or her sleep, and then all was silent again in the room.

Draco moved down the steps towards the dimly lit Slytherin common room, running a hand through his longish blond strands.

The room was wonderfully empty and silent, and Draco moved towards the fireplace, seeking warmth. His mind and body were filled with a heavy unease and he cursed his existence silently.

It wasn't his fault he felt this way, and neither was it his fault that he was having all those nightmares. They were incredibly annoying and inconvenient and Draco wanted to rid his mind of the tempest of thoughts that filled it, that allowed him to believe what he knew was a lie.

The previous month's copy of the Quibbler lay on the dark wooden table across from the fireplace. It lay there unopened, and Draco's heart fell as he saw the face of his own flesh and blood- one Lucius Malfoy plastered on the cover. Again.

The eyes were dark and somber, but they lacked the – _look_ – that always was present in Draco's dream. His father stared back at him without emotion.

Draco scowled darkly as he read the headline with distaste.

_Malfoy to rally support for the Death eaters_

He wondered who really thought this was news. Hadn't everyone seen the headlines from previous weeks, all parading the same thing? That Lucius and his whole family would support the plight of those who had formed an alliance with He Who Must Not Be Named?

Draco smirked. Voldemort. He still had the bloody bad habit of calling him the same thing as those who opposed him.  
Draco walked away from the table and the newspaper with his father's hateful face on the front. He didn't need to open it because he already knew what would be printed in the article: his father's hate for those who had opposed Lord Voldemort so many years ago. And his restrained but obvious hate for Albus Dumbledore and his followers. His support of the death eaters who were slowly gaining power and popularity once more. His promise of peace and a better world if power was once again reverted to the right hands. And his promise to work until the right people controlled the wizarding world.

Draco turned towards the fireplace and raised his wand slowly.

"Incendio." He croaked out, his voice still heavy with sleep.

The grate burst into a bright orange blaze and Draco watched it for a few moments with satisfaction. Then, in a quick and flowing move, he returned to the table, grabbed the magazine and threw it into the fire. The orange flames engulfed the black and white print and then it slowly turned black and withered.

Good.

For now.

Undoubtedly there would eventually be another headline similar to that one, and then another. No one could keep Lucius Malfoy away from the wizard press, and no other wizard as of yet, had been able to keep him quiet. He had talked about Voldemort's return. He had made his support public. He had flamed and tried to defame the name of Dumbledore numerous times. He had sworn allegiance to those who would follow Voldemort once he returned.

Draco frowned. It wasn't that he didn't agree with his father. The blond boy knew that if push came to shove, that he would support his father.

But he didn't like how his father's sudden need to publicize his beliefs and ideas impacted the life he was leading at Hogwarts. He didn't like the looks and whispers that came from students who couldn't even dream of being good enough to call themselves his friends. He hated the way that many of them were so vocal with their beliefs that Lucius Malfoy was insane and a threat to the wizarding community. He despised how easily his name was being thrown around the halls between classes and during meals. And how easily the rumors flew; about his involvement with the death eaters and how he was supposedly a spy for the soon to be returning Lord Voldemort.

Draco shifted in the large upholstered chair as he glanced out at the snowy morning with indifference.

And more than anything that bothered him was the fact that Albus Dumbledore watched him. Not just occasionally like he watched the other students, but more closely. Draco let out a weak laugh as he wondered if the headmaster was watching him now.

Draco wondered if the older wizard had ever landed upon the humorous irony of the situation: that he was headmaster over the son of the man who hated him more than any other wizard.

The boy laughed and the rose from his place on the chair and moved back upstairs. It was time to start another day.

He dressed quickly, putting on a green sweater and brown slacks under his school robes. He threw his books for morning lessons in his bag and then hurried back down the steps, ignoring the sounds of the other boys that were beginning to wake and get ready. He didn't want to talk to them anyway.

He reached the door and scowled miserably and then managed to put a bored, indifferent look on his face as he reached for the heavy iron door handle.  
He was ready for the whispers.

The looks.

The rumors.

The hallway outside was cold and silent. He moved towards the classrooms quickly, his head held high and his heavy cloak billowing behind him. There was no one anywhere in sight, but Draco stared straight ahead, a deadpan look on his aristocratic features. His eyes were cold and narrowed.

There was silence now, but soon enough it would start again, and Draco was ready for it. He didn't give a bloody damn what they thought of him anyway. He was Draco Malfoy.

He was better than they all were.

He would win out in the end.


	2. The Quibbler

_Disclaimer and general warnings/comments:_

_For some reason, I could edit my first chappie…so I'm going to put all this good stuff in right now. Don't mind my internal dialogue…_

_I do not own Harry Potter. I don't want to, actually. I would, however, love to own Draco Malfoy. Alas, I don't own him either. All of this epic-ness is property of JK Rowling. _

_If you're here looking for a quick fix, I want to warn the reader that this is a long story, multi (upon multi) chaptered with deep story. Not much fluff, I'm afraid. I'd love for all of you to go ahead and give it a shot, but hey, I can't lie. _

_It is my first effort, started in 2008, and the second home for this fiction. I welcome those who might join me here from MNFF, and I also welcome all newbies. _

_Although never necessary, drop me a note or a review…I'm quite nice and adore constructive criticism. __ And now, onwards and upwards….er…something like that!_

**~The Quibbler~**

Minerva McGonagall rolled her eyes as she read the cover of the latest issue of the Quibbler. She knew that the magazine didn't have the best reputation for accurate or factual information, but as she stared down at the cold face of Lucius Malfoy – _again_ – for the third time in four months, she began to wonder if maybe what Malfoy was saying was actually real and not a bunch of gibberish.

And if it was true, then they were all in terrible trouble.

She grabbed the copy and flipped to the corresponding page to read a bit of the article itself.

**Lord Voldemort to Return Says Aide to the Minister**

**By Rita Skeeter**

Minerva sighed and shook her head.

"So that woman is still writing," she murmured to herself as she sipped a cup of tea slowly. "But not for a reputable source such as the Prophet, thank Merlin," she added a bit ruefully.

How a woman of Skeeter's personality, nastiness and overall tactlessness was still in the business, she couldn't understand.

Minerva sat and read the article quickly, trying not to take the news too seriously.

_I was incredibly lucky to once again get the opportunity to interview the aide to the Minister of Magic this month and get his views and opinions on our current political situation._

She tried not to laugh. Incredibly lucky to get a chance to converse with Lucius Malfoy?  
Incredibly lucky to get away from him without having to speak with him was more like it!

_Mr. Malfoy, well- spoken and polite as always has very much to share with the wizarding community about the future of how we will run our Ministry of Magic. And he has the full support of Mr. Cornelius Fudge, our own Minister._

Minerva smiled with amusement. Now that was a load of dragon dung, if she had ever seen one. Cornelius would never support a platform such as Malfoy had created and rabidly supported. The minister had always been the first one to express that he believed that Lord Voldemort was gone and would never return. And well spoken and polite were as far from the truth as was possible.

She threw the magazine down with disgust. How could anyone read such bull without growing sick to their stomach?

She stood and decided to make a trip upstairs to visit with Albus. After a moment staring at the magazine with contempt, she picked it up and moved out of her office. Although the whole article was a load of dung, it wouldn't hurt for Albus to read it.

...

Hermione Granger held a new copy of the Quibbler in her hand as she read yet another article about Lucius Malfoy and his hate for Dumbledore and his insane support of Voldemort. And now, added to that incredulity, he was spewing around the idea that Voldemort was returning! It was right there in black and white.

Hermione set the magazine aside and she took a bite of the oatmeal in front of her. The great hall was just starting to fill up at this time of the morning, and she looked around to see if she could spot her friends. Obviously Harry had decided to sleep in that snowy morning, as he was usually the first one to join her for breakfast, but Hermione couldn't see him at all. She took another bite of breakfast as she scanned the growing crowd of students that were gathering for breakfast.

The Slytherin table was empty.

Hannah Abbot and Ernie MacMillan sat at the table in front of hers, also perusing the new issue of the quibbler.

Dean Thomas and a few of the other Gryffindor boys, including Seamus Finnigan and Colin Creevey were sitting down wind of her, and she waved to them when they noticed her.

Then some of the other girls from Gryffindor walked into the room, including the Patil twins with Lavender Brown.

Hermione noticed the thin blond head of a small girl eating in the corner by herself, looking incredibly edgy. It was Luna Lovegood. Hermione didn't blame her for looking so nervous. Her father was the owner and editor of the Quibbler. And everyone who had read the articles that had been published in the past recent months was running to Luna, wanting to know if what was written was true or not.

Hermione glanced back down the front cover of the issue in before her. Lucius Malfoy stared back up at her with contempt, and the letters on the cover glared at her as well.

_Lord Voldemort is Soon Returning_

Hermione shivered slightly as she looked up from the magazine and back at the girl in the corner, who was trying to act like she wasn't there. Poor Luna. As soon as word got out about the latest issue, the kids would be all over her, demanding answers to questions that Hermione doubted Luna even had an inkling in how to answer.

She sighed and finished her bowl of oatmeal and glanced around again. The buzzing in the hall was growing in pitch as students were sitting and chatting all around her. And it was no surprise that more than half of them were holding issues of the dreaded wizard tabloid magazine. Surprisingly though, no one had made a move towards the small girl in the corner, although some were watching her with curiosity.

The Slytherin table was still mostly empty, except for the tall blond boy who had just gracefully sat down, away from the crowds. Hermione watched as he tossed his cloak aside, turned and glanced in her direction momentarily, turned back quickly, and opened one of his schoolbooks, expertly not catching any of the eyes that were watching him.

That was Draco Malfoy. Perpetual snob and foolish believer that he was better than everyone else. Hermione wondered in amusement if he was enjoying the fact that his father was all over the tabloid news.

That now, no one had to wonder if Lucius was a supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named. That everyone was talking about his father and wondering how involved he, Draco, was in the plight of the death eaters. That everyone was wondering if the rumors about his father and mother divorcing were true or not.

He was certainly the center of attention at the school. She wondered what he really thought about the whole bloody mess.

Hermione was deep in thought as she watched the stone still body of Draco Malfoy, and she didn't notice that her friends had finally entered the hall until Ron sat down in front of her.

"'Lo, darling," he said with a wink.

Hermione jumped in surprise and then she blinked and grinned. "Hi yourself," she told her boyfriend. His bright red hair was sticking up on the side and she affectionately smoothed it down as he sat. Ron raised one eyebrow.

"Where were you just now?" he asked. "It took us all of ten minutes to finally get your attention," he said with a wink. "Thinking about me again?" he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and smiled at Harry when he sat down next to Ron. A few minutes later, Ginny joined them with a happy smile. She had Ron's grin and his bright red hair, although hers fell down around her back in a fiery waterfall. She glanced down at the magazine lying in the center of the table.

"That rag again?" she asked, her tone a bit miffed. Hermione rolled her eyes once more.

"Unfortunately," she told her friend. Harry shrugged as he sipped his juice.

"Everyone is talking about it," he told them with a shrug, pushing his glasses up his nose carefully. "They're saying Lucius Malfoy is telling the truth."

Ron laughed a bit sharply. "Please, Harry, we all know that no Malfoy is capable of doing something as good as telling the bloody truth," he spit out, adding a dollop of honey to his oatmeal.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly at his friend.

"I don't know," he said, his green eyes glancing around the large room. "I haven't got a hold of this morning's issue of the Prophet, but I've heard that Lucius' rantings have finally made the paper," he said softly, so not to be overheard. "And that is a reputable source, so say all the professors," he added quickly.

The small group of friends was silent for a moment before Neville Longbottom joined them, wearing a bright red sweater, his usual goofy grin, and carrying the latest copy of the Prophet.

The group glanced at the paper eagerly, as the tall boy sat down.

"What's going on?" he asked, reaching for the cinnamon rolls. Hermione coughed.

"The paper," she told him, nodding slightly. "We need to see it."

Neville heaved a huge sigh and shrugged. "You're after the news about Lucius Malfoy too, I suppose," he said in a slightly bored tone.

"So there is news?" Ginny piped up from her corner of the table. Neville shot her a slightly surprised and overly nervous glance.

"Not really, unless you count in the fact that his ramblings, which have up until now been only in the Quibbler, have finally made it into the newspaper," he said.

Harry shrugged, flipping through the paper to the opinions section.

"Well, it's still only his bloody opinion, and not anyone else's," he snapped. "Thank Merlin," he added for good measure.

The group leaned in around him and read through the short article. Hermione sat back first.

"It's the same stuff he's been spewing all through the Quibbler," she said with a bit of relief. "No one is going to buy this stuff," she said confidently.

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair, holding the copy of the Quibbler in his large, wrinkled hands. The Daily Prophet lay open on his quite messy desk.

Minerva gave him a slightly uncertain look.

"Do you suppose that any of his ramblings are to be taken seriously, Albus?" she asked finally, after what had been several minutes of silence. Albus moved his eyes away from the magazine and gave a small smile.

"This article," he began with a chuckle, "Although quite well written, holds no truth, my dear," he told her gently. "I wouldn't fret over it. Lucius Malfoy has been insane for over half my life, and that is a long time."

Minerva could only crack half a smile. She nodded towards the newspaper somberly.

"You read what the paper said," she reminded him sternly. "It's one thing when his comments are printed in a tabloid such as the Quibbler. But it is a whole different issue when they start appearing in the Daily Prophet," she said, her voice slightly agitated. "I'm afraid that people will read his drivel, and believe it," she said, watching the headmaster through her small glasses, her lips pursed tightly.

Albus met her eyes slowly. "Perhaps they will," he said softly, "Or, perhaps they will surprise you," he added slowly.


	3. Malfoy vs Finnigan

_A/N: Here is hopefully where the action begins...Draco may be slightly OOC...:gasp:...and yes, his feelings already exist. I thought this way it would be more interesting. _

_Please R&R! :D ~LCailan_

**~Malfoy vs. Finnigan~**

Draco felt the oatmeal run down his throat in globs that were almost impossible to swallow. His breakfast was going down like glue, and it was all because of _them_. All of them. They were sitting at their own tables, seemingly minding their own bloody business, but Draco knew better. He knew better because the new issue of the Quibbler had been delivered to the school. And they would talk. Because Lucius Malfoy was once again on the cover of the magazine.

Damn his father for doing this to him again!

Draco sighed and turned his complete concentration on ignoring those who would talk about him. In spite of the fact that he had an almost uncontrollable urge to turn around and glance at the Gryffindor table to see if _she_ was there yet. The last time he had checked, the table had only been occupied by mudblood Granger. So, he acted like he was alone in the great hall, and soon those voices and the slight giggles and whispers melted into one low buzz around him.

And everything was fine too, until his reverie was broken by a slightly out of breath Pansy Parkinson, who plopped her tray down in front of him and gave him a quick, overall glance.

"What's with you, Malfoy?" she asked quickly. He sneered at her and rolled his eyes.

"You," he replied nastily. "Bothering me when I'm trying to study."

The dark haired girl laughed meanly.

"You? Study?"

"Yeah, so sod off."

"Lying is so not your strong suit."

Draco rolled his eyes and then let out a short breath.

"Parkinson, you _really_ just need to shut up," he finally said.

She shook her head at him and then pulled out a copy of that dreaded magazine. She watched him, and saw his jaw twitch, but other than that, Draco Malfoy appeared cool as ice. She smirked at him.

"I'll bet you're steamed at your father, then," she said lightly, but there was a level of understanding and knowing in her violet eyes. Draco took a calming breath as she scowled down at her.

"And you would know this how?" he asked tightly.

"I know because you are sitting there ready to bloody explode," she said simply.

Draco decided to give up. It was unfortunate that some people knew him too well for his own good. His silver eyes narrowed as he stared down at the magazine with undisguised hate.

"Just when everything around here reaches a level of normalcy that I find comfortable, my dear father has to stir up the pot again," he snapped at her. Pansy didn't say anything for a few moments.

"So, is it true?" she asked him, her eyes somber for the moment. "That Vol- He Who Must not Be Named is returning?"

Draco sighed with annoyance.

"Look," he said evenly, his eyes flat. "I don't know. I haven't read the damn article, I don't want to. In fact, I want to forget that I ever saw it," he said, his cool voice rising in caliber. "I want things to be back the way they were before all this started! It's not too much to ask," he said coldly.

His dark haired companion shrugged as she lazily flipped through the pages of the magazine. Her face was one of slight boredom mixed in with a bit of amusement. After a few moments of silence in which Draco was able to gather himself again, she spoke.

"How is it possible that you don't know if your father is telling the truth or not?" was Pansy's question. "You are his son after all," she added.

Draco stifled a nasty sound in his throat.

"Don't remind me," he said with droll. His eyes darted across the table at the article and then up at her inquisitive face.

"It's a tabloid," he said flatly. "Only a half-brained git would believe the crap they print in there anyway. Merlin knows why my father would want his thoughts and opinions printed in such a worthless excuse for a magazine anyway," he added snidely.  
Pansy stifled a nasty giggle.

"Oy, Malfoy!" A voice rang out above the breakfast din, and Draco closed his eyes, trying to gather himself once more.

"Is it true? You believe us to be half brained gits for believing what we read each month then?"

It was starting. He turned slowly, making sure that he was cool and collected.

It wasn't one of the nasty Gryffindors. Wasn't Granger, with her know-it-all attitude. Or Potter, who lived to torment him. Nor was it Ron Weasley, Potter's eternal, and quite stupid, sidekick.

It wasn't any of their friends either. It was Ernie MacMillan. Someone whom Draco hadn't ever though about hating. It wasn't just the Gryffindors who were wondering now. Who were gleefully watching him as he stood to face the dark haired boy who was staring at him full of questions.

Ernie continued then.

"Quite interesting stuff your father's been saying about You-Know-Who," he stated. Draco dropped his arms to his sides and stood up straight, a sneer on his pale features.

"I suppose I'll have to repeat myself again, for all those who missed it earlier," he drawled in a bored tone. "It's a _tabloid_," he snapped, his voice cold and loud enough for most of the students to hear. It didn't matter anyway. This is what they had been waiting for- most of them were silent.

All eyes were on the blond boy and Ernie MacMillan.

Draco continued, making sure he never lost his delicately gathered composure.

"Yes, a _tabloid_. A magazine with no truth to it at all," he stated firmly. "They publish everything and anything for a story."

A pause.

He continued. "Did you read the bit about the witch from London who gave birth to werewolves after her husband accidentally slipped up doing a transfiguration charm? That was very interesting."

The room was still. Luna Lovegood hid behind a book, still sitting in her corner. The female voice broke the thickening tension.

"But it's not just in the Quibbler anymore!" A girl called out.

Draco turned to face the voice that had spoken.

Hermione Granger stood there, her feet planted wide apart on the ground, holding the Daily Prophet. Her green eyes bore into Draco's gray ones and her small features were twisted into a look of determination. Behind her stood Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and -Draco's heart thudded almost violently- Ginny Weasley.

She had finally arrived for breakfast. Her red hair was shining fiercely under the lights of the great hall, and Draco was stunned momentarily. Ignoring the fact that his stomach had just done a summersault, his eyes returned to Granger once more.

She spoke again. "It's here, in the Prophet," she said, "The same scandalous things he's been saying in the Quibbler."

The paper made it's way from Granger's hand to MacMillan's, and finally, Draco set eyes on the article that confirmed what Granger had said to be true. The din in the room increased slightly, and had a note of alarm to it now. So, they all believed it to be true. Draco glanced back up at the small group that faced him. Ron was first to speak this time.

"So, don't you think that all of us deserve to know what your father knows, Malfoy?" he asked rather loudly. "Shouldn't you admit now that you've been lying? That something is going on?" he accused.

Draco steeled his jaw, but he didn't respond.

"What about the latest, Malfoy?" Potter asked loudly, taking a step forward. "Voldemort really returning?"

Steel colored eyes met Harry's green ones, but the taller boy would not speak.

"What about that rumor? You know, the one about your mum and dad splitting up because of his sudden interest in the media, and his public devotion to the death eaters?" someone called out. Draco could not place the voice, nor did he care to find out who had spoken.

"Oh, but we all know that his mother is directly related to some of those death eaters, isn't that right?" said a blond haired girl from the Hufflepuff table.

Draco could see Pansy wince from the corner of his eye. He tasted something bitter in his mouth and swallowed before speaking.

"My mother and father are none of your business," he announced, his voice hard as iron. The two girls at the Hufflepuff table whispered to each other rather obviously. Draco didn't know them. He didn't know who they were, or where they had come from, or what they did. He didn't feel anything for them, so didn't feel anything as he regarded them silently as they whispered to each other. They were the same as all the bloody rest, anyway.

"And why you involve me in what my father chooses to share with the rest of this community-"

It was Ginny Weasley who stopped him in mid sentence. Her soft brown eyes stared into his, and Draco stopped speaking, his voice catching.

Damn. She always did this to him. He could only stare at her, as the words he had been saying died on his lips.

"If it were true, though…wouldn't you tell us?" she pleaded with him. "Something as important…as…as…what was published today?" she added quickly. She was standing slightly behind Granger, but in front of her brother. Just watching him with those large, innocent eyes. She was reasoning with him. Without saying a word. Draco swallowed, but he was never able to respond to the small red headed girl.

"Why reason with him, Ginny?" Seamus Finnigan called out, standing up from his place at the Gryffindor table. "Why bother? He's already evil, just like his insane father!"

The words were said with spite and hatefulness, but they were only half-truths. Draco took in a deep breath as he stared at the smaller boy. Seamus' dark eyes were snapping in Draco's direction. His eyes then moved back to Ginny, who met his gaze with apprehension.

He wanted to go to her. Something was pulling him in her direction, but his feet did not obey his mind. He wanted to speak to Ginny, just them alone. Like the times he had been envisioning for as long as he had known her…He wanted to tell her so many things….but he couldn't move. Several of the students had now turned to stare at the highly agitated Seamus, who continued to spew his tirade against Draco.

"Do any of you actually think that he would…would….HELP us if something terrible was to happen to this school, or our community?" he cried out roughly. "I imagine he would only help those who wish to cause pain and suffering for all of us!"

Anger was an emotion that Draco struggled with. Above all others, it was the most difficult to control, and the blond boy was working diligently to master control of this particular emotion, as he had with all the others.

Draco had several goals in his life- and one in particular was to master the art of self-control. And a good sign of this mastering would be if he finally was able to control his rage around those whom wanted to evoke it.

This would not be one of those victorious moments. He felt a hand on his arm, and looked down to see Pansy shaking her head at him slowly. Her eyes clearly said what she didn't speak- _Don't_.

But Draco was beyond reasoning now. Before Seamus even had time to grab his wand in defense, he had pulled his out and lunged forward, pushing Hermione and Harry out of the way. He felt his torso connect with Seamus', and they fell to the ground roughly.

"I'll show you evil, you stupid, nasty, insignificant little prat!" he hissed hatefully, raising his wand. 

Minerva and Albus made their way down the stone corridor towards the great hall for breakfast. Most of the students would be there by now, and most of the faculty as well. Minerva's mind still replayed the words of the article in the Prophet. She glanced at the headmaster with worry.

"Why do they allow Lucius Malfoy to say such things and print them for the public to read, and yet they do not arrest him and question him about the whereabouts of the death eaters or their leader?" she asked in a thin tone.

Albus pursed his thin lips, and his blue eyes met Minerva's.

"They do not believe that Voldemort's return is imminent, my dear." he responded gently. "The ministry has chosen to believe that Lucius Malfoy's words are just that. Words. To agitate and worry the general wizarding populace," he explained. "He, although eloquently spoken, has no proof as of yet that there is any need to worry."

Minerva took a breath and wrung her hands worriedly.

"But you are keeping an eye out, aren't you?" she asked with hope.

"I am."

"And you do not take much stock in what was written in the Prophet?"

"I do not."

"But it is a reputable-"  
"In spite of this, I still feel that the death eaters do not pose an imminent threat to any of us, Minerva."

"Even though Lucius has continuously-"

The second time Minerva spoke, she was cut off not by Albus' soft voice but by the raucous coming from behind the doors of the great hall. The couple stopped and glanced at each other with wide eyes.

"What in Merlin's name…?" Minerva gasped.

Albus pushed forward and entered the great hall and gaped at the sight.

There was violent altercation going on near the Slytherin tables. Sparks, words, and cries flew from both directions. The headmaster recognized one of the boys as he was knocked severely back and fell over onto his side after a rather nasty attack from the other side. The students were milling around, voice raised in agitation. Albus approached the closest student, Susan Bones.

"Miss Bones, what is going on here?" he asked sternly.

The girl looked on with worry before glancing up at him. She wore her hair in a perky ponytail, the ends of which she was fidgeting with.

"It's Seamus Finnigan and Draco Malfoy, sir," she mumbled quickly. "Draco attacked Seamus after an argument about the new article in t-the Quibbler," she almost whispered.

Even though there were several professors looking on and trying to stop the fight, it seemed as if the two boys were determined to kill each other. Minerva pursed her lips sternly as she hurried towards the large group of students at the end of the hall. Albus followed, and she gave him a knowing look.

"This is the fourth fight that Draco Malfoy has gotten into over this nonsense, isn't it?" she questioned. Albus nodded with seriousness.

"In a month, my dear," he reminded with a bit of amusement. Minerva sighed.

"That poor child," she said with sadness. "He doesn't even realize how much his father's involvement with the Ministry and his publicity have affected him."

"And not for the good."

"Not for the good," she agreed somberly.

Draco lifted his wand again, his fist shaking from the effort pushed into the fight. He glared at Finnigan, who was lying on the ground, amid scattered food and pumpkin juice. Draco scowled, feeling blood run down his chin.

Damn.

His nose was bleeding! He would take care of that after he took care of Finnigan. He wiped his face haphazardly, as he came upon the smaller boy. Now Finnigan looked scared. Not like before, when he had been so self-righteous and all knowing.

_Who's winning now, huh?_

He moved closer, pointing his wand at his opponent. Some of the girls let out cries of fear, but he ignored this, as he had ignored the efforts of his friends in stopping the fight.  
As he had ignored the soft pleading of Ginny Weasley's voice when she had pushed her way through the growing crowd to try and help Finnigan. There had been something sad and hurt in those chocolate colored eyes, but Draco had ignored it.

He didn't care. Not anymore. Not when they didn't care. Finnigan and anyone who crossed him again deserved this. Just like Fletchley had deserved it last week, and MacMillan two weeks before. But before any curse could escape Draco's lips, his wand effortlessly rose from his clenched fingers and he gaped in surprise, turning quickly.

Albus Dumbledore stood at the edge of the crowd, looking on with a disappointed expression on his withered face.

Draco stopped moving and put his hands down. He watched as Finnigan tried to stand up, but wasn't able to. Lavender Brown hurried to his side and helped him to his feet, and then he proceeded to limp to the nearest table, his face contorted in pain. Several of the students stood watching with horrified expressions, surveying the damage that had occurred. The din that had arisen during the fight had fallen again to almost complete silence.

The only sounds were heavy breathing from both Draco and Seamus. Food lay scattered all over the floor and several wooden benches and one table had been turned over during the altercation. Whispering erupted again from surrounding tables. Hermione, Ron and Harry glanced at each other with surprise and worry.

Seamus was trying not to cry.

Albus sighed and glanced at the blond haired boy, who still had blood dripping down his chin and onto his robes.

"Mr. Malfoy, please come with me," he announced in a weary voice. "First to the infirmary, and then to my office."

He turned to Seamus.

"Mr. Finnigan, after Professor McGonagall takes care of this problem, she will assist you to the infirmary where Madame Pompfrey will take a look at that leg," he said sternly. "I will deal with you later."

Draco searched the floor and found his wand laying the mess around him. He quickly picked it up, and then moved towards the headmaster.

He already knew what was going to happen.  
A stern lecture.  
A threat of being expelled.  
And two weeks of detention.

But he didn't much give a rat's behind. Draco surmised that if given a chance, he would probably have done everything the same way. They all deserved it anyway. Stupid, muggle-loving, clueless know-it-alls.

He glanced down at Finnigan hatefully and watched as Sprout gently rolled up his pant leg to assess the damage. And he felt _satisfaction_ at the already forming bruise on his thigh. He sneered as he walked by, not feeling an ounce of remorse.

"Next time, I hope it's your bloody face," he cursed sharply. "You don't deserve anything less for your smart ass tongue. Hope you keep it shut next time."

He glanced up and hurried past the blur of students who were watching him. He saw a blur of red hair.

_Ginny_.

His heart stirred slightly and he turned his head, but couldn't see her anymore. He could only see her eyes, the way they had pleaded with him. Perhaps later he would try and talk to her. He needed to explain to her what had happened. Before _they_ did. His stomach lurched as the thought about this, and he knew he would have to wait. And perhaps she wouldn't want to talk to him anyway…

He followed the headmaster out the door, feeling quite satisfied with himself. Just another day in the life of Draco Malfoy, after all.


	4. Repercussions

_A/N: For those reading, thank you! If you care to drop a review/critique/whatever, feel free. I adore feedback. ;)_

**~Repercussions~**

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny hurried out of the great hall after being dismissed brusquely by a very angry McGonagall.

The mood was serious, and no one spoke for a few moments. It was Hermione, as usual, who broke the expectant silence.

"Can you believe Malfoy in there?" she asked in a hushed tone. "I've never seen him so violent with anyone."

Ron's face was one of pure disgust. "What can you expect from and up and coming death eater?" he spit out with contempt. His cheeks were flushed with anger. "I hate him."

Harry glanced at his friends. "I knew that something was going to happen this morning when Seamus confronted Malfoy," he told them slowly. Hermione sighed.

"I know that he is a horrible person, but I have never seen him the way he was today," she said, her eyes serious. "I really thought that he was going to kill Seamus in there."

A silence fell upon them again as they climbed the steps towards their Charms classroom. Ginny followed quickly, as she was heading towards her history class.

The windows on the second level of the castle showed the view of the snowy Hogwarts grounds. Snowflakes continued to fall at a constant pace. Winter had come early. Ron made a face as he glanced down at Hermione.

"We all know about all the horrifying things that the death eaters have done to the good, decent wizards!" he blurted out. "They didn't have any troubles killing innocent people and torturing others to the point of insanity!" he cried. They all thought about Neville and what had happened to the Longbottoms.

Ron continued.

"What's to stop Malfoy from killing anyone he likes?" he finished. There was another pause and then Ginny spoke up from behind them.

"I rather think, though, that reasoning with him this morning would have worked better than what Seamus did," she announced with a bit of uncertainty.

Ron threw out his hands in frustration, almost knocking the books that Hermione clutched to her chest from her hands. She gave him an annoyed glance, which Ron ignored.

"You _can't_ reason with him, Ginny!" he burst out. "This is Malfoy we're talking about!"  
Ginny gave her brother a withering glance, and pushed a strand of red hair behind her small ear.

"I KNOW whom we're talking about," she snapped. Then she took a breath.

"Maybe…maybe all this is getting to him," she suggested. Harry gave Ginny a curious look.

"All this stuff with his father, you mean?" he asked, never having thought about that. Ginny nodded quickly.

"I mean, his father HAS been on the cover of the Quibbler numerous times, talking about his support of the death eaters and You-Know-Who, when the majority of witches and wizards are opposed to h-him and his followers," she bit her lip a bit nervously, but plowed on, "And then there's all the talk about him being a death eater-" she gave Ron a stern glance when he opened his mouth indignantly to speak up. He quickly shut his mouth again, and let her continue. "Ron, you KNOW that you don't have the proof about that either way, so don't say anything."

He was silent.

"And now the rumor about his mum and dad splitting up because of all this…" she said, rather sadly, "I suppose that I would be miserable right now if I was him." she finished simply.

The boys had little to say about the situation, but Hermione instantly spoke up support of the younger girl.

"I agree," she rushed forward. "I think we should all leave him alone. He has enough to worry about right now, without all of us giving him a hard time," she said.

The group slowed down as they neared the History wing and Ginny's classroom, and then Ron grudgingly gave Ginny a quick hug.

"Sorry I went mental on you there for awhile," he said ruefully, ruffling her loose hair. Ginny grinned up at her brother and tried to make the uneasiness of the moment pass.

"That's okay," she said, winking at him, "I'm used to it by now."

Ron rolled his eyes playfully and the two separated. He glanced at his little sister with love, and then he managed a half smile.

"Thanks for keeping me in line, Gin," he told her gently. "I really need to just learn to ignore."

Ginny gave him a flat look.

"Or accept," she replied knowingly.

Then she smiled at Harry and Hermione and then moved towards the open door to her classroom, her mind not so much on Ron and what had happened that morning, but on Draco Malfoy. She hurried into the classroom and took her usual seat halfway towards the back, the wheels in her mind turning quickly. She didn't like the fact that he was even prominent on her mind, but it was something that Ginny couldn't help. There was something about the look that they had exchanged earlier that morning. Her mind backtracked and she closed her eyes to aid in picturing his lean, pale face, with its turned up nose and gray, almost silvery eyes, and the angular jaw and full lips.

She felt a shiver run through her momentarily as she pictured the expression on his face-the look in his eyes.

Pleading for understanding.  
Pleading for her to wait.

She had felt so…_drawn_ to him. In spite of the fact that they had hardly ever talked. And that they shared no common ground, no friends, no classes, no after class activities. In fact, the only time that Ginny ever saw him was during meals and occasionally in the hallways. And he had never looked at her the way he had that day.

Binns floated into the room and the students around her pulled out their parchment and got their quills ready. Ginny sat still, transfixed at the falling snow she saw past the window, her mind far away. Why did she feel so connected to him? Her mind wandered over dusty memories and hidden thoughts that had been packed away in her mind, trying to find their connection…

"Miss Weasley, are you with us?" Professor Binns' gravely voice drew Ginny away from her memories with a jolt. She coughed and glanced around noting the slightly amused expressions of her classmates.

"Yes sir, I am now," she replied, blushing slightly. She pushed the memories back into their places in the corners of her mind, knowing she was done thinking for now, but not forever.

_**ooOOoo**_

Draco left the headmaster's office, trying to carry himself upright. Stupid Dumbledore. Stupid school.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore spoke from behind Draco. After the stern lecture he had received for the last hour, if Draco never heard the headmaster's voice again, it would be too soon.

But he stopped and turned slowly. Dumbledore was watching him with a slightly amused expression in his soft blue eyes.

"Perhaps next time you speak with you father, you will ask him to tell you the truth about the things that are going on, hmm?"

The young man turned and slowly trudged towards the staircase leading to the dungeons.  
He felt contempt run through his body. And why not? Dumbledore was siding with _them_ again. He always did. So not only did he have to put up with all the crap from his fellow students, and from some ignorant headmaster, now he had to deal with detention from Snape. It was all Draco could do to keep from screaming.

_At least he knows I want them to leave me alone_.

The thought was mostly dark and he didn't believe that Dumbledore would _try_ to do anything. But it was a start. He didn't know what it was like to listen to them whisper, start rumors, giggle, stare at him, talk about his parents…so how could he possibly understand? All he had gone on about was that the students were worried. That they were wondering if Voldemort would soon return.

What a crock of shit.  
As if there weren't REAL things to worry about.

So they all thought his father was insane. And evil. Draco pursed his lips tightly, thinking about this. Perhaps, if he was going to be honest, he would have to admit his father had gone a bit mental. And he was a bit over zealous in his support of the death eaters.  
But Draco was certain that his father only wanted the best for the wizarding world in general. He had always give loads of money to the ministry and charities. He was involved at Hogwarts and in the ministry. Didn't the Minister of Magic have to trust him somewhat to give him the position that he held there? Yes, Lucius Malfoy had only best intentions, and Draco didn't believe anyone who disagreed with that. And so what of the fact that it was the death eaters that the elder Malfoy supported?

Draco rolled his eyes at the lecture he had received on the evilness of the death eaters.

Like he hadn't had THAT shoved down his throat for years. He often wondered why different equated itself to evil. Why was it that if you were against Dumbledore, you were on the "wrong side"? He didn't understand this.

Yes, the death eaters had killed people. Yes, they had tortured people. But they had to have had reasons. They had been in control at one time, so they had made the rules. Those who broke the rules were punished. Draco believed this. His father told him that those who didn't follow the rules _now_ were punished. So what was the difference?  
Dumbledore's voice entered Draco's mind.

_Innocents. There were many individuals that were killed for no reason at all…_

Impossible. Draco shook that thought from his mind, as it made no sense. His father had told him that the imprisoned death eaters responsible for all the deaths had been released from Azkaban the year before. Everyone had heard that news. Draco remembered thinking that they wouldn't have been released from the prison if they had done something truly wrong. Or so his father had told him.

Dumbledore's unwelcome voice filled his mind again.

_When they __**escaped**__ from Azkaban…_

No!

Draco set his jaw firmly. His father would not lie to him about such things.

"Don't let them influence you, Malfoy," he said to himself. "You know that there was no escape."

Draco arrived before Snape's office and tried to look somewhat nonchalant. He couldn't believe this was happening again. Detentions were so overrated. He could hear Snape moving around inside the office as he knocked on the large black door.

"Of course they didn't escape. Father would never lie to me," he decided. Then he entered the office, his head held high.


	5. The Library

_Finally I managed to find a moment to quit my DA obsession…here's the next chapter for anyone who might have been reading and was angry that I stopped posting. __ Enjoy!_

ooooo

The Library

ooooo

Draco leaned back in his chair in the library late the next afternoon. The room was empty except for him, Madame Pince and a few other students who were at the centre of Draco's line of vision.

Just where he wanted them.

He was feeling quite good that day. All the copies of the paper and the magazine had been taken away from the students. Draco had even heard the rumour that there would be no more paper at the school. He smiled with satisfaction.

_What a bloody shame_, he thought.

He stared down at the table before him with an inward sigh, at the small, open sketchbook that lay there. He leaned down over it so that no curious eyes could land upon its contents. Hell, that would be embarrassing. He picked his pencil back up and got back to work. This was something that he would not-COULD not- show anyone else. It was his secret, although one of several, more secret than some of his others. It was also his obsession. And, perhaps, his passion. It got his mind off of all the other things that were happening to him. He stared down at the drawing that was almost completely finished and his heart drummed a bit more quickly when he realized how….almost _real_ it looked.

He leaned down and glancing up at her once more, added shading to her small, turned up nose. Then he sat back, gripping the pencil lightly in his fingers and studied the drawing critically. A sly smile formed on his lips as he stared at his masterpiece.

How chillingly accurate.

There, before him was true beauty in black and white. Drawn with the utmost care and perfection. Because she WAS perfection in Draco's eyes.

He glanced up and found that she was now leaning over the wooden table, whispering something to Lavender Brown. He watched, slightly mesmerized as her long red hair fell down across her back and caught the setting sun, seemingly setting her whole head on fire brilliantly. Draco's mouth dried up as he felt his heart pounding. He couldn't help thinking that, here, before him was true beauty, and it had taken the human form of Ginny Weasley.

She was pure perfection in every sense.

Pure loveliness.

And pure innocence.

She possessed everything that Draco had ever desired. The longing in his heart tugged something fierce inside of him, and he managed to glance back down at the drawing.

Colour.

It needed colour, because Ginny was not a girl who was black and white. The pencil was put back into his bag, and a package of small, high quality coloured pencils replaced it. Draco slyly glanced back up at her table. She was playing with her hair now, smiling at something that Lavender had said. He couldn't even define what colour to call that hair. Red? Brown? Auburn? Copper? A mixture of all four? He stared down at his colours and selected three and moved to begin shading. It would take awhile, as Draco wanted this to be as perfect as it could be. As perfect as she was.

The sun continued to set, sending the library into deeper shadows. The candles were lit and flickered on the shelves between the books. Draco shaded slowly, and he felt his heart ache with longing every time he glanced up to look at her. How long had he wanted her like this? How long had he harboured this secret desire for her? Draco didn't really know. But he _did_ know, that no matter what else was going on in his life, or what he felt for everyone else, his feelings for her had never changed. Not hating Potter. Or her brother, Weasley. Or what was going on with his father and mother now. Nothing.

He still wanted her.  
Always.

Draco sighed and glanced up at her for the millionth time since entering the library hours earlier. The library would be closing soon and everyone would be headed to supper, leaving Draco by himself with Pince. It was part of his detention duty, and he dreaded it. He didn't want Ginny to leave. He wanted to sit right where he was and admire her for the rest of his life. It seemed as if he had been doing that for most of his life. The Hogwarts part of it, anyway. He finished shading her hair and glanced at his drawing again. Much better. He reached for another pencil and then looked at the eyes in his drawing. He knew that a pencil could never do Ginny Weasley's eyes justice. Such stunning eyes. Draco couldn't see her face from where he was sitting, as the shadows of the library were beginning to blanket everything around him, but he could see her eyes in his mind. They had captivated him, just like the rest of her. They were full of life, and laughter and innocence and to glance into them, was to subject yourself to become lost in her.

Draco reluctantly picked up a brown coloured pencil and got to work on the eyes in his drawing, wishing he could capture in his drawing the magic, the sparkle, the heat that her eyes always exuded. He knew it would be nearly impossible, and he was growing tired from his hard work anyway. He smirked, wondering how his grades would be if he put forth as much effort into his schoolwork. As he shut his sketchbook, he saw Ginny stand slowly and begin to move towards him. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to compose himself quickly. He hated himself for allowing her to make him feel like this. Draco knew he would never be used to it.

Their eyes met in the dimly lit room, and Draco froze, as she watched him. Their connection didn't waver and Draco could swear she was slowing down as she neared his table. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Perhaps this would be the day she said something to him…and he would respond. And that would lead to a conversation…which would lead to another one…which would lead to everything Draco had ever wanted. She moved past him, their connection broken. His hopes dimmed.

_And WHY would she want you?_

His mind spoke to him harshly. He put away his pencils slowly, his heart falling.  
Why would she want him? She was above everything that he stood for anyway. She was everything he wasn't- honest, good, and pure. Maybe that was why he loved her so- she was everything that he lacked in himself. She completed him. He stared down at the books still scattered on the table before him, and sighed once more. He still had another hour to kill before his detention started. Ginny returned to her seat and said something to Lavender. They continued working.

_Why would she want you?_ His mind asked again. _She's a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! She wouldn't even give you a glance other then her first once-over! Get a grip on yourself, Malfoy._

The first once-over. When had that happened? Flourish and Blotts when Ginny had been a first year? Probably. Even then, Draco remembered the young girl's feistiness and passion as she had defended Potter.

_She hated you then. She still hates you now._

Draco couldn't ignore the little voice in his mind. She DID hate him. There were lots of reasons, after all. Could she really ever deal with the fact that he was in Slytherin house? That all her friends and those she loved hated him? That they were different as night and day? It was hopeless, and yet he still yearned for her. She was sitting there now, the candlelight reflecting in her strands, making them look blood red. She had pulled it up against the nape of her delicate neck, and it was held up by her quill. Draco wondered what it would be like to remove that quill and run his hand through hair that looked like silk…

"Hey, Malfoy, you okay?" came the voice from his left. He jumped slightly and then turned towards the sound.

Pansy sat in the chair next to him, holding a small package in her hands. She gave him a smirk in lieu of a greeting.

"Seems like you're miles away."

Draco shook his head, forcing himself out of his very ridiculous daydream.

_Remember, she doesn't want you anyway_, he reminded himself.

Pansy set the package on the table and nodded towards it.

"I brought you supper," she announced softly, now being watched by the hawk-like eye of Pince. "Since I know you'll be here for half your night anyway, and you haven't had anything to eat."

She pushed the bag towards him, and he accepted slowly. Draco hadn't thought about food. He was suddenly grateful for Pansy, although he would never admit it to the dark haired girl.

"I appreciate it," he responded.

Pansy shrugged and then pointed to his sketchbook, which Draco had forgotten to put away.

"What are you working on?" she queried.

He shrugged coolly.

"Extra credit for potions," he lied nonchalantly.

Pansy didn't press the issue. She stood quickly and then her violet eyes scanned he nearly empty library.

"Gryffindors," she said under her breath.

Draco didn't comment on the obvious. She then glanced at him one more time and took a breath.

"Okay, then Malfoy. Have a good night. I'll see you when you get back," she spoke with a slight hesitation.

Draco wanted her to go, so he glanced at her from the side coolly.

"See you," he murmured off-handedly.

He watched as she moved away and was swallowed up by the complete shadows that rested in the room.

Draco was alone again. He quickly put his books away not wanting another close call like what had happened with Parkinson. He found himself slightly amused by how differently someone could feel for two people! He had never really thought about it before. How what he felt for Pansy paled in comparison to his feelings for Ginny. She was his life. He could swear it. No matter what else happened, and no matter how little he knew or understood- he did know one thing. That, perhaps, he loved her. The voice in his head piped up again.

_She doesn't want you_.

oooooo 

Ginny moved towards the doors leading out of the library, Lavender in tow. It had been a boring but productive evening, and Ginny was glad that she had spent the extra hours in the library. It would pay off the following weeks in her history class. What she didn't like was the way that Draco Malfoy had been watching her. It hadn't been like he was staring at her per se. He had stolen glances when he thought she wasn't paying attention. But she had FELT his eyes on her. And it had made her uncomfortable. As she passed his table, she saw him staring down at the book in his hands. She wondered why she felt a slight disappointment when he never glanced up. Hadn't he wanted to catch her attention all night? Ginny felt quite stupid in having misinterpreted his signals. Why would he be watching her all night, and then not even give her a moment's notice when she passed him by? That was why Ginny didn't understand men. She turned her head once more after she had passed him, but the blond boy hadn't moved. His blond strands had fell into his face and his lips slowly moved as he read. She shook her head and then kept moving.

Ginny and Lavender split up once they exited the library, and Ginny began a slow walk back towards the Gryffindor dormitory, never noticing the smoky grey eyes that had followed her every move.


	6. After the Fight

_Yes, I do feel bad about dropping this – dang DA obsession. Here's another chapter for anyone still reading. L Cailan_

**After the Fight**

Draco watched her as she turned and moved towards the staircase that would carry her downstairs and away from him again. He felt despair as she began to move down the steps slowly and then disappear altogether.

He was left alone, standing outside the library. A feeling of disclosure filled him. His face felt hot and his eyes dry. He blinked, but that did little good.

He heard her footsteps die away.

She was gone, and he hadn't even begun to tell her all the things that were bottled up inside of him. Did he even WANT to tell her?

He smiled ruefully, knowing that a part of him wanted to run after her, to catch up to her, and tell her the things that he felt; the long buried secret that he had been burdened with.

His love for her.

He leaned his face against the coolness of the stonewall next to the library door and closed his burning eyes. Would it have been that hard to set pride aside? To reason with her as she so desperately wanted? At least Ginny was willing to talk to him- she was so unlike the rest of them. She would have listened to him, and maybe…just maybe…

She HAD wanted to reason with him. That he knew. And he had laughed in her face about it. Told her to go to hell.

His eyes opened and he pulled away from the wall and slipped back into the now empty library, trying to get away from the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. Pince was walking around getting things ready to close for the evening.

Draco cursed himself silently.

Instead of doing what his feelings were dictating to him deep in his heart, what had he done? Further alienated himself from her. He had worn the typical Malfoy shield-one of coldness and indifference. The shield that he held up against anyone and anything that crossed his direct path. It was what his father had taught him so long ago.  
The other side of Draco could suddenly hear his father speaking to him.

_Feelings have no place in the world, Draco. You must learn this if you are to succeed. Those who allow emotion to control them are those who will be doomed to failure. You are a Malfoy, you must learn to succeed. A Malfoy does not care. He does not feel…_

Draco tried to heed his father's words, especially now, at a time when he thought his heart might burst. He tried to ignore the pain that he felt and he reasoned with himself harshly.

_She doesn't care about YOU, Malfoy, she wants to see her friends happy. It's not about YOU._

He had been so cruel to her. So cold.

He took in a painful breath, and pictured her before him as she had been, her beautiful eyes full of confusion and anger. And her voice came back to him, soft and so broken..

_You really don't know what it is to feel, do you? You don't HAVE a heart._

He walked towards the back of the library towards Pince to start his detention, those words ringing through his mind, each one stabbing him in the heart.

Ginny believed he HAD no heart.  
He smiled bitterly.

_If I have no heart, why do I feel like it's breaking?_

...

Long after most of the school was sleeping, Ginny found herself wandering the silent corridors near the Gryffindor dormitories, unable to sleep.

Her mind continued to wander over her conversation with Draco Malfoy, and as hard as she tried to not think about him, it was of no use.

It had been just a silly conversation, right?

_Of course,_ her mind whispered.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

_No. In fact, it was quite the usual conversation between us. Just the usual cold insults…_

She frowned and stared out at the magical scene before her from one of the windows. The sky was a midnight blue and spotted with twinkling stars. The light from the moon danced along the white snow that blanketed everything. Ginny was momentarily enthralled with the view. After a few moments of admiration, she moved down the hallway past Flitwick's office and back to Gryffindor tower.

She pursed her lips, deep in thought.

_Maybe I shouldn't have walked away so quickly._

She silently uttered the password and slipped into the common room. By this time, she was all alone anyway. The fire had almost completely burned out, and there was no sound anywhere.

_He looked as if he had wanted to tell me something, but I didn't give him that chance._

Ginny silently moved up to her dormitory room by her wand light.  
Her room was filled with sounds of even breathing. She crept to her bed as silently as she could.

_Should I have given him a chance to talk?_

Ginny got under her blankets and lay down, eyes still wide open.

_Would anything different have happened between us if I had acted differently?_

She sighed and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

Ginny had no idea that several floors below her, a Slytherin boy was thinking and wondering the same thing as she.


	7. In the Courtyard

_So before I continue on with the next installment, I want to address the confusion on my last chapter – apparently what I thought was clear, in fact, was not. I apologize. I DID intend to leave out the fight between Ginny and Draco simply because it would have been more of the same (she hates him, he hates her, we all know what happens when they both bicker) as I have arguments coming in the next few chapters and didn't want to add the unnecessary. From the emails I have received and the thoughtful reviews, I realize it was not assumed the way I thought it would be. I hope this hasn't confused any of the readers – the truth is the fight that I referred to does not significantly change the story. Thanks for the reviews, the adds and the emails – I hope I don't disappoint!_

_LCailan_

* * *

**In the Courtyard**

Life at Hogwarts went on without incident the next several days, although most of the students were waiting for the moment when the other shoe would drop.

It always did.

There were no copies of the Quibbler or the Daily Prophet to be found anywhere, in spite of Hermione's whining and complaining about not getting the news, most everyone agreed that it was best.

There had been no incidents between Draco and any of the students, and although Seamus was still bitter about being beaten up by him (although he wouldn't admit it openly), he was as glad as the rest of them that Draco's temper hadn't resurfaced.

Ginny, who had stopped thinking about Malfoy so much over the last several days, decided that it was best she not say anything about her run in with him by the library. She didn't want to hear Ron's indignant tone, or see Harry and Hermione's surprised or confused expressions. To disrupt the peace after what had happened at the beginning of the week would have just been wrong.  
So she kept silent.

* * *

"They're watching you," Pansy said in a hushed tone, her cobalt eyes moving from Draco's face over his shoulder.

He frowned, trying to keep his anger in check. It would have been too damn good to be true if all those imbeciles had really decided to leave him alone.

They were standing outside in the courtyard waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to join them before they headed over for their Herbology lesson. The snowstorm of the previous few days had finally died down, and only a few scattered snowflakes fell.

Draco didn't turn around.

"Who's watching me?" he questioned Pansy. She wrinkled up her nose in distaste.

"The usual," she replied. "Stupid Potter, his half brained friend Weasel, Weasel's hopelessly friendless sister, and Miss I'm- Merlin's-gift-to-wizards-Granger," she quipped sarcastically rolling her eyes towards the end.

Draco let out an amused snort.

Partly because Parkinson could be really funny sometimes. And partly because she had mentioned Ginny. He wanted to cover up anything that would reveal the instant emotional reaction that Ginny Weasley could elicit from him.

"You're jealous of Mudblood Granger," he deduced slyly, teasing her. Pansy gave him a shove and shook her head.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she replied, only half teasing.

Draco granted her wish reluctantly. He rolled his eyes.

"Figures Potter and his gang would have no lives other than to live vicariously through me," he snapped dryly.

Pansy giggled, although Draco knew it was only for his benefit. She shivered and then made a face.

"Look, I'm cold. How long is it going to take your friends to get here?" she whined, trying to shake the heavy snowflakes from her shoulder-length dark hair.

Draco took this opportunity to turn around, glancing around the grounds for his friends.

Pansy had been right. Potter and his gang were standing on the other side of the courtyard, in a small group, talking and laughing. If they had been watching him, it was no longer apparent. Ginny stood on the outskirts of the small group, her red hair shining brightly against the whiteness of the snow. She made a splendid picture- red hair against white snow, sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. Draco found himself wishing he could paint.

What a masterpiece that would be!

His heart thudded dully in his chest as he continued to watch her. As if she suddenly became aware of his eyes on her, Ginny turned slightly, and caramel colored eyes met stormy grey ones. Draco had trouble breathing for those few seconds. But they passed quickly, and he found that she had turned around again. The moment was over.

"Who are you staring at?" came he question from Draco's left. Pansy peered over his shoulder and then snorted.

"But of course. Miss I'm-Merlin's-gift-to-Wizards-Granger," she sniffed.

Draco tore his eyes away from the Gryffindor group with a slight annoyance and embarrassment.

"Come of it, Parkinson," he snapped, "I was doing nothing of the sort."

"Sorry. Weasley then. Whatever. They're both muggle loving losers." She retorted.

Draco ignored her comments and shook his head nonchalantly.

He glanced at her more closely and realized that she was, indeed, slightly jealous. He shook his head with slight amusement.

"I wasn't staring at Weasley either," he lied coolly.

Draco made an earnest effort to not glance in Ginny's direction again. Pansy still looked slightly put off by the whole thing. Draco smiled slyly.

"I still think you're jealous," he teased once more.

Pansy gave him a flat look and pouted slightly.

"Not jealous, just confused…as to WHY you're even looking at her," she replied quietly.

Draco laughed, although it was forced, to cover up his true feelings.

"I'm confused as to what you're talking about," he told her simply. "So the green-eyed monster can go back to its cave now," he added sarcastically.

Pansy was pouting now as she shivered once more from a gust of air that blew through the courtyard.

"I'm NOT jealous," she piped up darkly.

Draco ignored her this time, and shivered slightly, wrapping his cloak more tightly against his body. He finally glanced down at her and nodded towards the herbarium.

"Let's get out of here. I'm tired of waiting for Crabbe and Goyle anyway," he decided.

Pansy followed quickly in his footsteps as they moved away from the Gryffindor bunch. As they walked along the snow covered path, Pansy changed the subject altogether.

"So, father tells me your parents are finalizing the divorce," she said.

Draco didn't respond immediately, as this was a sore subject with him, and one he didn't want to think about, let alone discuss. Parkinson was one of only three people that really knew what was going on in the Malfoy family.  
When he did respond, it was full of bitterness.

"Your father, Parkinson, has the biggest bloody mouth in all of England," he snapped. "I wish that he would just keep it shut."

Pansy rubbed her mittened hands together quickly and pushed her dark hair behind her ear before replying.

"I would have found out anyway, Malfoy. Being as our families always go away on holiday together, and this year, neither of your parents is going."

"Right then."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes before Pansy piped up again.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Look," he sighed. "The only person not okay with this, I guess, is you. Because you keep talking about it."

"I'm only concerned."

"Well, don't be."

More silence passed them, and Draco stared at the ground while he walked. He felt a twinge of anger towards his father. It was mostly his fault that this divorce was happening. But of course, he didn't want Pansy involved, nor did he want to show any sign of weakness by admitting that it DID bother him. So he swallowed his emotions. As usual. Father would have been proud.

After another moment of silence, Draco spoke again.

"Mother did owl me a few days ago," he stated. Pansy perked up slightly.

"Oh, did she? How is she taking everything?" she asked.

Draco shrugged roughly, not looking her in the eye.

"All right, I suppose. I believe she knew this was going to happen," he admitted softly. "My father's gone mental. I don't know if I could survive life with him."

The herbarium loomed before them, and Draco and Pansy hurried inside to get away from the cold. Draco was glad. He didn't want to talk about his parents any longer, and he didn't like the way that Pansy had gotten him thinking about his mother.

While class began to drone on, Draco's mind wandered about what his mother was doing. The fear and contempt that Draco felt for his father had never gone as far as his mother. In fact, Draco, much like his father, had neutral feelings for her. But the reason that he did not fear her like he did his father was simple. In Draco's life, Narcissa Malfoy had always been a constant. She might not have show the affection and care that other mothers showed their children, but she did what she could under the watchful eye of Lucius.

Maybe, a part of Draco knew that his mother did love him, even if his father didn't. So that was what made her different. Even then, sitting in the hot and damp herbarium, Draco could remember moments with his mother poignantly…the softness of her sweaters, her comforting scent, and her soft voice when she had told him stories before bedtime. Draco remembered her telling him that it was okay to be frightened, that everything would be all right when his father left the house for several days and didn't return.

Those were moments so long past, but still tucked away in his memory. Moments that were filled with emotion - something that Draco denied his need for so much he had nearly forgotten what it felt like to want it.

She had loved him.

And without realizing, he missed that. Perhaps, he missed his mother. As he sat there, in the classroom, he grew hot behind his eyes, and had to blink to relieve the tension.

Only Pansy noticed.

"You all right?" she whispered.

He didn't even glance at her.

"Yes. Fine."

And he would be, as soon as he stopped thinking about his mother.


	8. What Sirius Overheard

**What Sirius Overheard**

_Somewhere in Little Hangleton…_

Sirius Black sat back on his haunches right outside the rickety wooden door, straining to hear the conversation on the other side. Dog ears were more in tune to the environment, but Sirius was sorry he hadn't been able to sneak into the room where the conversation was going on. He had a bad feeling that whatever it was that was going on would not be a good thing. There were only several voices within that room- mostly male and perhaps a female as well, although Sirius wasn't sure. The conversation was heated even though the voices themselves were soft and restrained. It was seemingly an argument that was desperately trying to be restrained. 

Sirius moved forward and tried to get most of his doggy body against the door so he could hear as well as possible. But it was almost of no use, since the words were still muddled for the most part.

He almost let out a frustrated bark.

But just as he had decided that listening in was futile, suddenly, there were footsteps on the floor inside the room, and Sirius realized that someone was moving towards the door. He silently scrambled away from the door, and waited expectantly. The door never opened, but now, Sirius could hear the owner of the footsteps clearly. He had never forgotten that voice, since its owner had been a bane in his existence at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry so many years ago. He thought of Harry, who had just begun his last year at the school. At how amusing it was that Harry's arch nemesis was also the son of the man who had been such a thorn in the side of him and his closest friends.

Husband of one of his first cousins.  
General pain in the arse.

Lucius Malfoy.

It was he who stood behind that door, the owner of one of the four voices. Sirius grew cold as he heard him speak.

"I don't care who does it."

There was a deep laugh next to him and Sirius recognized the voice of Antonin Dolohov to whom Lucius replied harshly.

"You underestimate my wonderful sister in law, Dolohov."

Then there was a very familiar laugh.

Sirius felt his blood run cold momentarily. How long had it been since he had heard that laugh? Several years? Maybe more? Had it been at Hogwarts? His mind moved quickly. No. Of course. It had been when she had been put away at Azkaban. For torturing the Longbottoms. She had laughed even then, when they were arresting her and sentencing her life in prison.

It was the same, cold, unfeeling laugh as well. He rolled his eyes.

Dear, wonderful Bellatrix.

Sirius sat back once more, thinking with great depth. Was that the last time he had seen her? He couldn't remember much of what had happened before his time in Azkaban. As the murmur of the voices behind the door rose and fell, Sirius was filled with a deep and endless sense of gloom. He was now certain that whatever was going on in that room was not good. Nothing good had EVER come from any situation that involved Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

Absolutely nothing.

She had been one of the most popular girls in Slytherin house, and yet probably the most vicious and mean. She had then married Rodolphus, who only nurtured the nasty, sadistic side that Bella had always possessed. The couple had embraced everything that Lord Voldemort stood for and had become two of his most loyal followers.

Sirius shivered slightly as he remembered the way she had looked when she had been arrested for torturing the Longbottoms. And she had never once shown remorse for her actions.

Never once.

She had gone to Azkaban for life, and even when arrested she had screamed her allegiance to her lord, and that she would do it again if given the chance.

And she had laughed. Just as she was at that moment.

Sirius shuddered.

Footsteps seemed to rouse Sirius from his dismal thoughts. Then Lucius was speaking again.

"Take care of it, then. I can't have anything or anyone standing in my way now. The time for that is OVER."

Sirius back away from the door and bounded around the corner of the living room he had been in. Best none of them see him anyway. Especially Bella, who was particularly fond of torturing small, innocent animals for amusement. As he hurried towards the back of the house to find an exit, Sirius began wondering whom to go to first.

Something was definitely brewing. With time, things would begin to boil over, but he hoped to stop whatever it was.


End file.
